Potters Poem by Mac Adrone Adonay

Standing on the middle of the ring
Facing your opponent eye to eye
All around you, people are cheering
Fists are closed, on your strength you rely

The bell rings, there you are fighting hard
Throwing punches on opponent’s face
Feeling strong, you are moving forward
Like a runner leading in the race

And you thought that to win is easy
You can pound him, you can knock him down
Overconfidence makes you cocky
And you thought that you would get the crown

Though bleeding, your opponent fights back
And you get hit by his strong punches
He’s a tiger running on your track,
There you find the meaning of careless

Where is your strength, you lose it badly
Facing him, showing that you can stand
He measures you, weak is your body
Like a house built in the grains of sand

You are pretending that you’re not hurt
Still fighting until the last minute,
But end is near, you didn’t begin smart
So you fall, gaining taste of defeat

You are not strong, you are just a clay
You’re not solid, you’re soft I say
You’re a clay and that’s the difference
The potters friend are your experience.